


Sock

by shippingforreal



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: M/M, Mark jackin' it to Sean's voice, Masturbation, aayyee, auralism, being a stinker, idk man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6331183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingforreal/pseuds/shippingforreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark tries not to make a Skype call weird. He doesn't do very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sock

**Author's Note:**

> My first piece of Septiplier fanfiction. Based off of something I used to do with friends when they weren't paying attention, eheh.

Mark sighed shakily, the thrum of nervous excitement tingling at every nerve ending in his body as he sat down at his computer. He stared intently at the screen where Skype was pulled up at, eyes trained specifically on Jack's contact. He read and re-read the status message, though nothing of it actually stuck in his head as making sense. Taking a deep breath, he released it after a moment in a whoosh of air, repeating the process a few more times.

He was just calling Jack. It wasn't a big deal. Nothing weird was going to happen. It was just a Skype call. He could handle it. He could _handle_ it.

...he... _could_ handle it, couldn't he?

Taking the mouse in his hand, before he changed his mind, he clicked Jack's Skype contact then quickly hit the "call" button. Instantly his computer began trying to connect to Jack, the call ringing for a few seconds. As sudden as the call began, the ringing stopped and Jack's face appeared on Mark's screen, face lit up in a smile.

"Yo!" came the enthusiastic greeting. There was a pause before Jack quirked an eyebrow. "S'wrong with yer video?"

"Wrong? Looks good to me on my end," he replied, the lie coming easily. Yeah his camera /was/ on, it wasn't like the lens was being blocked by an old sock or something. "You that anxious to see my face~?" He watched the Irish man scoff, though the sound was followed by a grin.

"Not yer ugly mug!" he jabbed, his grin widening only a little. Mark swallowed thickly, hopeful that the sound wasn't audible. "Why don't'chya try to fix it? It looks all weird and fuzzy. Not somethin' blockin' it?"

"Do I sound stupid to you?" he retorted, "How wouldn't I notice if there was something blocking the lens? Your stuff probably just sucks."

"Like hell it does!" Jack rolled his eyes, reaching up to rub his head slightly through the beanie he was wearing; the colour was a dark maroon that paired well with the shock of green hair beneath it. "Whatever, not that worried about it. Anyway, what's the occasion?"

"What? I have to have a reason to pester my friends?" Mark said in mock indignation, a hand lowering slowly to his fly.

"Yer puttin' off editing something, aren't ya?" Jack replied, now not quite looking at the camera, but instead at something on his screen. "What is it? A highlight reel?"

"Pfft...no! ...maybe." Mark allowed his hand to rest on his zipper now, watching Jack intently.

"Called it," he said smugly, glancing back into the camera with a smirk. The expression caused a twitch somewhere below the belt, Mark pressing his hand now to his crotch. So much for keeping this a normal conversation. "More 'Happy Wheels'? Or ya doin' another horror reaction compilation?"

"I had more Happy Wheels on my plate. My other videos are done for tomorrow, I just don't want to do the damn highlight right now," he replied with annoyance to his tone, hoping it didn't sound as forced as it felt. "Anyway I didn't call to have you nag me about my work, _mom_ , I called to see what you were up to."

Jack didn't reply for a moment, eyes trained on the screen, flicking back and forth as if reading something. Mark prayed that he'd bite and start talking. He didn't need very long, and he wasn't about to be picky regarding what he was going to talk about.

"Well I was tryin' ta do some more editing but I realized I had an arse-load of shit in my inbox on tumblr, so I'm replyin' ta those right now."

"Oh? What kind of questions you getting tonight?" Mark asked, popping the button of his jeans free. As he went to lower the zipper, he spoke again out of paranoia, "The usual "notice me senapi" stuff?"

"Sorta," Jack began, pausing a moment as he began to read something else. He then laughed, shaking his head. "Oh man, lemme send you this message I just got."

"Why don't you just read it out loud ya lazy?" Mark retorted quickly, desperate to keep him talking.

"Fuck you, callin' me lazy cause you don't wanna read somethin'!" However Jack was trying his hardest not to laugh, biting a little at the inside of his cheek as he glanced at the camera. "Fine, fine, I'll just read it to ya. Jesus Christ." Clearing his throat, he began reading aloud, "Jack! Here's a joke! Doctor, 'I'm sorry but you suffer from a terminal illness and have only 10 to live.' Patient, 'What do you mean, 10? 10 what? Months? Weeks?!' Doctor, 'Nine...eight...'”

Mark forced a small chuckle, Jack grinning at the screen as he began replying, reading it aloud to Mark without the other asking. It went on like that for a little while, Jack reading the asks and his own replies to them, Mark minimally commenting to prove he was listening. Oh _boy_ was he ever listening.

Sometime between an ask about Jack's favorite coloured shoe laces and his current reply to someone asking about how much sugar he drank in his coffee, Mark's hand had finished fishing himself out of his pants. He was now stroking himself, pace fast and very aware of how easy it would be to cum right now. Every time Jack opened his mouth to speak, the sound of the other's voice sent thrills through him, body tingling and cock pulsing in his hand as he staved off his orgasm.

The longer he went, the more it built in his gut. His balls were almost aching from the need as he felt a bead of sweat roll down his face, soaking into the collar of his shirt. Everything was straining and thrumming with need, Mark pressing his lips together firmly. It was taking literally every ounce of self control not to moan or even breathe too loudly.

"Ugh, goddamnit," Jack said suddenly, sounding annoyed. "Got another anonymous user callin' me 'daddy'. Fuckin' hate that." Mark cracked open an eye-when had he closed them?-in time to see Jack look back into the camera. "Y'know me tho, rather be the one callin' someone 'daddy', eh Mark?"

He was very clearly joking, as was obvious from the tone and the ridiculous eyebrow wiggle, but Mark's body had an entirely different reaction. As quickly as he could, he reached out his left hand, the right still very occupied with stroking his dick, and semi-blindly clicked the "mute" button on Skype. Without missing a beat, a moan was ripped from his throat as he leaned back, half hitting the underside of his desk with his knee, his entire body jerking as he came.

"Fffuuuck-Jaaaaaack-!" The sound leaving him was pleasing to his own ears as spurt after spurt of hot cum splattered his shirt, in an instant staining bits of the white fabric in a way that made the thin material partially see-through. As soon as he felt the last wave hit him, his grip loosened on himself and he went boneless in his chair, panting and basking in the after glow of his orgasm. After a few more seconds, he grudgingly sat up a little to unmute the call, only to find that the call wasn't up any more.

Instead there was a message from Jack in the chat, "Yo, the fuck happened to the video call?? I can't get you to pick up, is it ringing for you???" Then the message after that, "Y'know what maybe this is a sign you should go work on your damn highlight reel! Anyway I'll message you later, gonna go back to working on this video. :P" Mark read and re-read the message, wondering when the call had ended. He typed out a one-handed reply, "Yeah guess so. I'll call you tomorrow or something." Hitting enter, he huffed in contentedness. Now all he needed to do was clean up. He'd just use the sock covering his-

Mark felt a cold sweat suddenly envelop him, eyes staring at his camera. At some point, the old sock that had been covering the lens was now piled innocently beneath the camera, having slipped from its perch.

"...fuck. _Fuck_."

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna be multi-chaptered, but only like two more, maybe. We'll see. Leave me a kudos or a comment. If you're feeling up to it, you should check out my tumblr: [Shipping-For-Real](https://shipping-for-real.tumblr.com/). I post nothing but Septiplier, Markimash (when it exists ; n;) and the three of them smushed together in an OT3.


End file.
